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| II. | II THE MAN IN THE STREET |
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 | Poems |  |
229
II
THE MAN IN THE STREET
‘Death in the right cause, death in the wrong
cause, trumpets of victory, groans of defeat’:
Yes; and it's better to go for the Abbey than
chuck your old bones out in the street.
cause, trumpets of victory, groans of defeat’:
Yes; and it's better to go for the Abbey than
chuck your old bones out in the street.
Life is a march and a battle (there's some of us
make it a kind of review);
But how if you never get out on parade, and
there 's not any fighting to do?
make it a kind of review);
But how if you never get out on parade, and
there 's not any fighting to do?
Hands in your pockets, eyes on the pavement,
where in the world is the fun of it all?
But a row—but a rush—but a face for your fist.
Then a crash through the dark—and a fall;
where in the world is the fun of it all?
But a row—but a rush—but a face for your fist.
Then a crash through the dark—and a fall;
And they carry you—where? Does it matter
a straw? You can look at them out of your pride;
For you've had your will of a new front door,
and your foot on the mat inside.
a straw? You can look at them out of your pride;
For you've had your will of a new front door,
and your foot on the mat inside.
In fact, you've done a pitch for yourself, and it
seems, but it isn't, a parcel of stuff,
For nobody knows, nor looks your way, nor cares
—but you know, and that's enough.
seems, but it isn't, a parcel of stuff,
For nobody knows, nor looks your way, nor cares
—but you know, and that's enough.
‘Death in the wrong cause, death in the right’:
O, it's plain as a last year's comic song!
For the thing is, give us a cause, and we'll risk
our skins for it, cheerfully, right or wrong.
O, it's plain as a last year's comic song!
For the thing is, give us a cause, and we'll risk
our skins for it, cheerfully, right or wrong.
230
And if, please God, it's the Rag of Rags, that
sends us roaring into the fight,
O, we'll go in a glory, dead certain sure that
we're utterly bound to be right!
sends us roaring into the fight,
O, we'll go in a glory, dead certain sure that
we're utterly bound to be right!
October 1892.
| Poems | |